


Overgrowth

by Piesti



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Trying to add some culture, adding tags as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 11:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22495225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piesti/pseuds/Piesti
Summary: Snowdrift is new to all of this, ok? It’s not every night you get your full name, and it’s not every night you get a dire warning from your ancestors- with a shady deputy to worry about and everybody starting to look at him like he’s crazy, he’s got a lot going on.Teasel just wanted to escape some rogues and thought that Windclan territory was the best bet to get out alive. Now she’s stuck with a sullen mentor, three crazy new friends, and a ghost that only seems to know a single word.Piketail doesn’t fit in very well, but he’s got his mother and his apprentice (and maybe his apprentice’s friends? Maybe?) so he’s fine, thank you very much. Besides, it’s not like he wants more friends- they’re more trouble than they’re worth half the time, anyway. Really.Briarheart may not be coping with her sister’s death in a “super healthy way”, but by Starclan she is coping. There are mouths to feed and borders to patrol and kits to protect and maybe even conspiracies to deal with- who has time for things like “sleep” and “meals” and “fun” anyway?It’s four cats against a hidden enemy, which is hard enough on its own, never mind their own lives falling apart.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue: Oaths

THUNDERCLAN: Round one, start

Softgaze creaked her way down the tunnels that lead to the Moonstone, moving as fast as she could for the sake of the eager apprentice trailing behind her. It had been seven moons since she had taken him under her wing, and she was confident that, should anything happen to her, Thunderclan would be safe in his paws- it was time for him to receive his full name. Her ears twitched as she heard little Splashpaw, the Riverclan apprentice, accidentally stumble into Snowpaw behind her; the tubby tom’s hushed apology echoed in the silence around them. Snowpaw chuckled, and she felt a glow of pride when he offered to help guide the other apprentice through the tunnels- this was only Splashpaw’s second time at the Moonstone, so he needed all the help he could get. Shaking off her musings, Softgaze lead the way into the chamber just as a moonbeam slipped through the hole in the ceiling, lighting up the Moonstone in a brilliant glow. Used to the sight, she made her way over to it, settling down in front of it before turning to her apprentice.

He was still standing near the entrance as the others filtered in around him, seemingly entranced with the sight of the light illuminating the cave. He gave a start when he noticed her looking at him, and a fond smile flitted across her face as he scrambled over to meet her, his white fur ruffled with excitement and odd eyes gleaming in the light of the stone. Clearing her throat, she lifted her chin and began to speak.

“I say these words before our glorious ancestors, and you, my esteemed comrades. I ask you to accept this apprentice into the full order of the healer. He has trained hard for the past seven moons to learn the full responsibilities of a medicine cat, and I find him fully capable of his duties. Snowpaw,” she continued, locking eyes with him, “do you swear to treat every cat, regardless of age or clan affiliation, to the best of your abilities?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear to reject the ways of the wicked, to uphold the teachings of Starclan, and to guide your clanmates in the way of the stars?”

“I do.”

“Finally,” she mewed, her tone deadly serious, “do you swear to protect the sick, the weak, and the vulnerable, even at the cost of your own life?”

He swallowed hard before straightening, his voice firm as he replied, “This I do swear, on my own life and by the stars.” Softgaze nodded, a proud gleam in her eyes as she turned to the others gathered around them.

“You have heard his oaths and you have heard my recommendation. Do you accept this apprentice into our ranks?” They answered with loud yowls of approval, the chamber ringing with the noise. Snowpaw trembled with joy as Softgaze faced him once again. “Then, with the approval of our fellows and our ancestors, I name you Snowdrift, and welcome you as a full medicine cat of Thunderclan.” He had to press himself to the floor so Softgaze could reach his head to lick it, but that didn’t matter. The sound of the others cheering his name swelled around the chamber as he licked her shoulder, Splashpaw nearly shouting himself hoarse. Softgaze chuckled at his enthusiam, returning Snowdrift’s affectionate nuzzle with one of her own. She gave him an affectionate flick with her tail, purring as the cheers began to die down. “Now,” she announced, “let us commune with our ancestors.” She eased herself into a low crouch, touching her nose to the cool stone and saying a quiet prayer as sleep began to settle over her. _Esteemed ancestors,_ _take it easy on the kit-_

_don’t do to him what you did to me._

WINDCLAN: Breakable

_Shalestar gulped_ , trying to hide her nervousness as she looked down at the clan, _her_ clan, for the first time. She was exhausted after the events of the past few days. It seemed that everything that could have possibly gone wrong had. Falconstar and Poppypaw had been _murdered_ -

_Nothing had ever felt heavier than Falconstar’s weight on her back. It was a struggle to carry his body down the slope into camp, but the shrieks that pierced the air as she shouldered her way through the gorse barrier were what almost made her legs buckle beneath her. Gorsestorm and Heathernose were wailing, the others that slipped out of the dens to see what was happening crying out in shock when they saw her. Somehow, the cacophony of sound grew even louder when Palesky entered behind her, poor little Poppypaw dangling from his jaws. Dipperpaw was frozen, plastered to the ground, but the look on Kestrelcall’s face as he saw his daughter’s body-_

She shook herself, clearing her throat a little awkwardly as she looked down at a sea of pained and tired faces.

“My friends-” her voice broke, and she cleared her throat again, harder this time. “My friends,” she continued, voice hoarse and low, “my family, my brothers and sisters of the stars. I stand with you in the face of this ultimate tragedy. Falconstar…” she trailed off. She locked eyes with Stagstep, then Silverpaw and Cinderpaw, who sat beside him. Drawing strength from their supportive gazes, she continued once more. “Falconstar was a great leader, and we all loved him as such, but more importantly we loved him as a father, a brother, a friend, and a fellow warrior. He had many great seasons before him, as did Poppypaw. The loss of her kindness and unshakeable dedication to this clan is in itself a great tragedy.” Shalestar bowed her head, voice quiet but growing louder with every word, “I swear to each and every one of you, on my own nine lives, and the very stars themselves, that their murderer will be found, and that _justice will be done unto them_.” She didn’t realize just exactly how loud she had gotten until she finished speaking, her flanks heaving as she looked out over her clanmates, searching for a reaction.

There was a beat of silence before Silverpaw hoisted herself onto her hind legs, yowling “ _Shalestar!_ ” as she did. The rest of the clan erupted into cries of their own until they were practically screaming her name to the clear blue sky, eyes burning with grief and defiance. When the cries died down, she continued.

“As is my responsibility, I now name my successor: Palesky will be the new deputy of Windclan.” The news was expected, but the clan still greeted their new deputy with enthusiastic yowls- all, she noticed, except two. Gorsestorm was openly glowering at Palesky as he approached the Tall Rock, and Heathernose was making a very lame attempt at cheering. _This matter is not one that will be settled soon,_ she thought darkly, leaping down to greet her deputy. Ceremony concluded, the clan began to disperse, some going out to hunt or patrol while others retreated to their dens. Stagstep approached with their kits, Palesky bidding her a quick farewell before padding off to the nursery. Encompassed by Stagstep’s soothing presence, Silverpaw’s cheerful chatter, and Cinderpaw’s quiet affection, Shalestar felt herself relax for the first time since she found Falconstar’s body. She tensed once again, however, as she caught Gorsestorm’s gaze over Cinderpaw’s shoulder. Her younger cousin gave her a look of poorly concealed contempt before slipping out of the gorse tunnel, Heathernose and Kiteclaw quickly following after him. As difficult as things had been over the past few days, Shalestar knew it would only get harder. _Dear Starclan_ , she prayed,

_Don’t let me mess this up._

RIVERCLAN: Lazy river

_Grayfeather felt her joints creak_ as she rose out of her nest, slowly padding out of the warrior’s den and into the late Greenleaf sunshine. She took a deep breath, letting it sink in that that was the last time she would sleep in that nest, this the last day she would spend as a warrior. _I never really thought I would make it this far_ , she thought in wonder, ambling towards the edge of camp where Coppertail was assigning patrols. _I cannot believe this is my last day as a warrior_.

“Grayfeather, would you go with Piketail and Littlepaw on a hunting patrol? I know you probably have a few tips that could benefit the both of them.” She purred in amusement as her son flattened his ears in embarrassment, his apprentice smiling shyly at her from where he was half hidden behind his mentor. She had been so proud of Piketail when he had been named a mentor for the first time. He had been so somber and withdrawn since that _… incident_ , when he was an apprentice, and she could see how having Littlepaw around was doing a great deal of good for him. She was content to follow them out of camp and to the river, watching as her son patiently answered the slew of questions Littlepaw was asking.

“Has anyone ever told you how much you look like your mom?” Littlepaw asked brightly, before his face dropped and his tone became awkward. “I mean, your fur and eyes- I mean, eye? Are the same color, and…” He trailed off, almost cringing in embarrassment. Grayfeather was a little apprehensive, wondering how Piketail would react. She was a little surprised when he let out a snort of laughter.

“It’s alright Littlepaw, I get what you meant. We do have the same coloring, although I’m afraid that’s about it.” Littlepaw brightened at this generous pass and gave his mentor a grateful nudge before running ahead, having spied the river. She took the moment alone to give her son a comforting lick on his cheek. Piketail’s face was riddled with scars- his left eye was missing, as was his ear, and his right ear was horribly tattered. The scars continued down his neck and chest, and more were scattered down his flanks and across his back. It gave him an almost ragged appearance, although he was meticulous in grooming his thick gray fur. Grayfeather remembered how sensitive he had been, when it became apparent that his wounds were severe enough to disfigure him, how vehemently he had been against a name change, how much it had hurt him when cats stared, or kits hid from him. It made her happy to see how well he handled his apprentice’s fumble- she could easily remember a time when such a comment would have made him withdraw into himself for days.

“No need to worry, ma. I’m not as much of a shrinking violet these days.” He said with a small laugh. He seemed so comfortable, so sure of himself, that she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

“I can see that!” She meowed, giving him an affectionate flick with her tail. “Now, I know you’re oh so grown up and mature now, but never forget that I’m here for you if you need anything.” He gave her an easy nod as they came to settle near Littlepaw on the riverbank.

“Don’t worry, you’ll always be the first cat I go to, I promise- even if you are a crochety old elder!”

Littlepaw burst into laughter as Grayfeather knocked her insolent son into the water for his cheek. Her grin grew impossibly wider as Piketail surfaced, sputtering and complaining. _So much like his father,_ she thought, smile dimming a little. _Dear Starclan, please,_

_help him bear it when the truth comes out._

SHADOWCLAN: Useless

Nettleclaw’s eyes gleamed in the artificial light as she slipped under the fence that surrounded the dump. Her sister crept a scant few paw steps ahead of her, slithering towards the shadows cast by a towering pile of trash. It was near moon high, meaning the dump should be empty of twolegs, but increasing their chances of running into other creatures. Rogues and rats were nothing to be trifled with, so she was careful to keep quiet as she followed Briarheart through the mounds of waste. They had just found a box of discarded chicken bones when the smell of twoleg came to them on the stale breeze.

“What is a twoleg doing here so late?!” Briarheart hissed as she recoiled deeper into the shadows, Nettleclaw scuttling after her. The twoleg moved into view, weaving through the trash piles with a small bag clutched in its hairless paw. It dumped the bag just out of their line of sight before quickly turning and leaving the way it came. _Just dumping some trash then_ , Nettleclaw thought, relieved that they hadn’t been seen. “Come on,” Briarheart said, heading for the chicken box again, “let’s see if there’s anything we can bring back so we can get out of here.” She moved to follow but stopped as she heard a faint noise. It was coming from the direction of the bag the twoleg dumped, and it almost sounded like… a cry?

“Briar,” she hissed, “do you hear that?” Her sister stopped, ears pricked, and Nettleclaw knew she heard it when she saw Briarheart’s eyes widen.

“That almost sounds like a kit!” They both immediately turned and darted in the direction of the sound. As they grew closer it became clear that it was a kit crying, or _kits_ , to be more accurate. The small, shiny bag was moving when they came upon it. Nettleclaw quickly tore a small hole in the side, gasping at what she saw. Three tiny kits, maybe two weeks old, were crawling around in the bag, wailing pathetically in their hunger. “We need to get them back to camp _now_ ,” she said glancing at Briarheart, “they’re much too young to be without their mother.” She leaned forward, intent on grabbing one of the kits, when a chittering came from behind her, freezing her in place.

_Rats._

She slowly turned, fur puffing up as she realized how many there were- at least six, huge and disgusting, their wicked teeth and beady eyes flashing in the harsh light. Briarheart hissed at her side, stepping up beside her with her claws unsheathed. In an instant, Nettleclaw came to a decision.

“Go,” she said quietly, “use the bag, take the kits back to camp.”

“No way Nettle, there’s too many- “

“Exactly, they’ll get the kits, you have to go, get them safe and get help!” The rats were advancing and Briarheart was still hesitating. Nettleclaw took a bold step forward, saying over her shoulder “I’m the better fighter, you’re the faster runner, just _go_ !” The first rat lunged and she met it halfway with a screech. As she sent the rat sprawling, she was relieved to see Briarheart dart away past her, the bag clutched firmly in her mouth. _Starclan guide her paws_ , she thought, turning her attention back to her opponents. The rat got back up, chittering angrily, and she felt terror creep down her spine as she saw even more creeping out of the shadows.

_And help me win this._

_._

_._

_._

It felt like moons later when she finally heard the thrumming of many paw steps. She coughed painfully, feeling blood trickle out of her mouth as she did. She lay surrounded by the bodies of her slain enemies, eight in total, but she had suffered for it- there wasn’t a part of her that didn’t burn or sting. _I didn’t think I was going to go out like this_ , she thought numbly, feeling weaker with each passing moment.

“Nettleclaw!” _Ah, there she is_. Briarheart skidded to a stop next to her, her fear scent almost rank in Nettleclaw’s nose. “No, no no no, I shouldn’t have left why did you make me leave-“ Nettleclaw sighed as Briarheart pressed her nose into her bloody neck.

“Thank Starclan you did, or those rats would have shredded you too.” It was getting harder to breathe. “The kits, are they ok?” Her sister’s eyes were shining with unshed tears as she nodded.

“They’re fine, Pinenose is taking care of them.” Relief washed over Nettleclaw like a wave, and she finally let herself relax, finally started to let go.

“Good, I’m glad I’m not dying for nothing.” Ignoring Briarheart’s protests, she continued, “I need you to promise me you’ll always take care of them, Briar. Don’t let my death be meaningless- that’s what I’ve always been afraid of, you know? I never wanted to be useless.” Her thoughts were growing fuzzy and dim, words slurring, and she was running out of breath to speak with. “Promise me.”

“You’ve never been useless Nettle, and you definitely aren’t useless now.” Briarheart said thickly, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks. “I promise you, I’ll keep them safe, I’ll guard them with my life.”

“You always were copying me, weren’t you?” Nettleclaw chuckled, before she was seized by a coughing fit. It was impossible to ignore the encroaching darkness, impossible to ignore that she couldn’t breathe anymore. Briarheart’s sobs grew faint in her ears, and as she closed her eyes for the final time, she couldn’t help but smile. _Starclan guide me home, and please,_

_keep them safe._


	2. the deep end method of learning

Snowdrift opened his eyes, eager to finally see Starclan’s ethereal hunting grounds. Instead, however, the glow of the Moonstone filled his sight. For a moment the weight of his disappointment threatened to crush him- had he been sent no dreams? Did Starclan not find him worthy of his position?

Behind him, someone cleared their throat.

Snowdrift nearly leapt out of his fur, spinning around clumsily. He vaguely noticed that none of the other medicine cats were there anymore- _have they all left_? His thoughts abruptly cut short, however, when he saw the cat sitting a few tail lengths away.

He was a gigantic snowy white tom, his warm eyes a dark, glowing amber. He was looking at Snowdrift like he might simply burst with pride, and something in Snowdrift’s mind clicked into place.

“… Dad?” he mewed, hesitantly stepping forward. “I mean- you’re… you’re Snowcloud, right?” The tom gave him a slow nod. While Snowdrift had never met his father, he had heard plenty of stories about him from his mother. She had told him and Cloudclaw about how Snowcloud, the former deputy, had died alongside his best friend Brackenheart defending the nursery from a pair of foxes only a week before they had been born. Tales of his father’s heroism, kindness, and virtue had followed him from birth, building Snowcloud up as an almost mythical figure in his eyes: larger than life, but also so terribly far away.

That didn’t matter now, however, seeing as his father was sitting a scant few tail lengths away. Snowdrift decided to take advantage of the situation to do something he had always wanted to do.

He lunged forward, shooting across the distance and skidding to a halt right before he crashed into Snowcloud, shoving his head under his chin with a rumbling purr. _Your father gave the best hugs_ , Whitefoot had told him, voice warm but eyes sad _. I never felt as safe as I did when I was with him_. If Snowcloud was surprised he didn’t show it, instead letting out a purr of his own. He wrapped one of his paws around Snowdrift’s shoulders, pulling him closer as he gave him a fond lick between the ears.

“My son,” he rumbled, voice trembling, “I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to finally meet you.” Snowdrift pulled away at that, whiskers twitching in excitement as he looked up- _the first time I’ve had to look up at someone in a long time_ \- to meet his father’s eyes.

“Me too! I can’t wait to tell Mom, and Cloudclaw- he’ll be so jealous!” he blurted out, eyes shining. Snowcloud laughed at his enthusiasm, shaking his head fondly.

“Now then, don’t rub it in his face too much. Warriors don’t have the same connection to Starclan as medicine cats do, after all. Do tell him that I am very proud of him, though, and give my love to your mother. I miss you all very much.” His eyes dimmed, a slight frown stealing over his face. “I don’t regret dying to protect you, but I do regret not being there for you when you were growing up.” Snowdrift opened his mouth to protest, but Snowcloud continued. “As happy as I am to see you, however, this is not just a familial reunion. I have a message for you.”

Snowdrift froze. That was right- this was his naming ceremony night, for the stars’ sake, this was no time to get carried away! He straightened up, schooling his expression and giving his father a serious nod. A flicker of amusement passed across Snowcloud’s face before he sobered. When he spoke, it sounded like every word weighed like a stone in his mouth.

“Snowdrift, medicine cat of Thunderclan. The Clans stray towards the edge of disaster. Our enemies work in the shadows and threaten the very foundation of our way of life. No one will be spared the consequences, from the smallest kit to the greatest leader. These agents are clever, and subtle, and they are not afraid to do whatever it takes to achieve their goal. This is not something you can stop on your own: it is imperative you find the others to help you stop them before they succeed in their plans.”

The light from the Moonstone suddenly went out, and the cavern plunged into darkness.

“Remember, we must first stand apart in order to then stand together.”

Icy fear trickled down Snowdrift’s spine, and his fur fluffed out in unease. He could no longer sense his father’s presence before him, his scent rapidly fading.

“Dad?” he called, his voice echoing back in the empty space. The little spark of unease suddenly roared into a blaze of unexpected terror, and he tore out of the cavern, stumbling along the familiar paths of the Mothermouth in his haste. He burst out of the cliff face and into the weak light of the half moon, gasping for breath as his fear slowly began to subside. As he tried to catch his breath, he felt something start to wind its way around his leg. Looking down in alarm, he was met with the sight of a plant growing up and around his leg. He pulled himself from its grasp, only to stumble back as more sprouted from the ground, the plant seemingly trying to snare him. Snowdrift began to run, his earlier terror returning as more sprouts erupted from the ground around him. The sharp scent hit his nose, and he recognized what it was.

Mint.

He kept running, the mint kept growing; it consumed everything in its path, covering everything it touched like fire in a dry forest. He raced across the farm: the mint followed behind him, the barn quickly overtaken in green. As he crossed into Windclan territory the mint started growing faster, now creeping past his flanks as if it were trying to surround him. Everything on the moor was overtaken- the heather, the gorse, the wild roses, the rocks, the burrows- nothing was spared. Snowdrift burst into the hollow at Fourtrees, the mint tangling around his paws. He stumbled and then slid all the way down the slope into the hollow, rolling to a stop in a tangled heap. He looked up, and was greeted with a horrible sight.

The Great Boulder was completely covered in mint, and it was slowly creeping its way up the trunks of the Four Oaks. Snowdrift was also being slowly covered by it where he lay, too exhausted to fight his way out of it. As it covered his back and wound its way around his throat, past his chin, around his eyes, he heard his father whisper in his ear.

“Find them.”

Snowdrift shot awake with a gasp, almost choking on the thick scent of mint that still clung to his nostrils. _What in the name of all that is holy was_ that, he mentally hissed, trying to shake off the fear and panic he had felt as the mint consumed him. Beside him, Softgaze yawned, slowly coming out of her own dreams. He managed to compose himself as the others too began to wake, the cavern soon echoing with their yawns and murmurs.

“Snowdrift! How was your naming night?” Came a cheery voice to his left. He looked down to see the Shadowclan medicine cat, Fernfire, staring up at him expectantly. Fernfire was a strange fellow: unfailing cheery, with an eager laugh and quick but gentle wit. That was strange for a Shadowclan cat, but Fernfire very obviously hadn’t been born there. His bright golden fur was odd enough amongst the typically dark pelts of his clanmates, but it was his short legs, half the size they should be, that truly betrayed his foreign birth. Snowdrift hesitated, struggling to come up with a response that wouldn’t give away too much information. The silence between them was starting to stretch, though Fernfire was seemingly unbothered by the pause.

“I met my father,” Snowdrift finally said, “he died before I was born.” Fernfire nodded amicably, purring as he spoke.

“Ah, I am quite happy for you then! I suppose that it is one unspoken perk of being a medicine cat- our loved ones are never really out of reach, even in death.”

Snowdrift nodded, shooting quick glances at Softgaze as she slowly creaked her way into a sitting position. He was anxious to get home so that he could share the message he had received with her. His mentor, observant as always, sensed his desire to leave.

“Alright then,” she announced, “we’ve all had quite the night, and I know these old bones would rather be in their nest than on this cold floor.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the others, and Snowdrift lead the way out of the Mothermouth. The walk home seemed to last an eternity. He bid quick goodbyes to the others, trying not to be rude, and set as brisk of a pace across Thunderclan territory as he could, given Softgaze’s age. She didn’t comment on his anxiety, simply plodding along at his side in silence. As they grew closer to camp Snowdrift heard a twig crack in the undergrowth next to them- already on edge, he leapt in front of Softgaze with his claws unsheathed, heart pounding in his ears.

“Now, is that any way to greet your deputy?” Came a smooth voice from the darkness. A molly slipped from the brush, her pale green eyes and bright white face glinting in the moonlight. Snowdrift relaxed for a moment before tensing again, a small stone settling in his stomach.

 _Mintfrost_. Thunderclan’s deputy, daughter of Stonestar. She was a very strange choice for deputy, in Snowdrift’s opinion- she was too reserved, too aloof, too _quiet_ to be a proper candidate for leadership. She rarely spoke outside of giving orders, and when she did it was usually in a dry drawl. She was well respected by the Clans for her cunning and success in battle, but even within her own Clan she seemed to lack any close friends. She even seemed distant from her parents, which was incredibly strange in a Clan that valued family ties as much as Thunderclan did. Honestly, she had always seemed a little… off, and if Snowdrift had to pick a Thunderclan cat who was secretly up to no good, the deputy would be his first choice. Besides, his dream had been about mint overtaking everything- who else could that mean but _Mint_ frost?

“What are you doing up and about so late?” he heard himself ask, and internally cringed at how suspicious he sounded. Mintfrost didn’t answer, though her eyes glinted at his tone, and simply shrugged in response. After a few beats of silence, she turned around, brown tail flicking as she took the lead on the way back to camp. Snowdrift and Softgaze followed after her, Snowdrift’s thoughts racing. _Ok, so I may have received at message that my_ deputy _is trying to take over the Clans. This is super not good_.

Softgaze leaned heavily on his shoulder as they picked their way down the ravine, Mintfrost waiting patiently at the bottom. She pushed her way through the entrance tunnel when they reached the bottom, bidding them a quiet goodnight when they all entered the camp clearing. She stalked over to the warrior’s den and slipped in, quiet as an owl in flight. The moment she was in, Snowdrift ushered Softgaze over and into the medicine den, turning to her immediately once they were safely inside.

“Softgaze, I-“

“Hold up a moment, dear.” Snowdrift snapped his jaws shut, looking at her in confusion.

“I’m sure you had quite the dream, but it is too late to be trying to unravel Starclan’s mysteries. It would be better to sleep now and look at everything in the morning with a full belly and clear eyes.”

Snowdrift wanted to protest, but reluctantly acquiesced, seeing the wisdom in her words. His nerves were shot, he was absolutely exhausted, and honestly, going to bed and worrying about everything tomorrow sounded incredibly tempting. He gave her a single nod and she let out a rusty purr in response. They settled into their nests, and Snowdrift was asleep the moment his head hit his mossy nest.

Mercifully, he didn’t dream.

“ _Good morning, sunshine_!” someone shouted, directly into his left ear. Snowdrift nearly leapt out of his fur, letting out a strangled yowl. Heart racing, he whipped his head around to see his brother, Cloudclaw, in hysterics on the floor, pounding his front paw on the ground in his mirth. Behind him, Softgaze was snorting in amusement, a small pile of herbs in front of her.

“Be nice to your brother, dear, I’m sure he had a long night.” A soft voice came from the entrance to the den. Resolutely ignoring his still chuckling brother, Snowdrift turned to greet his mother. Whitefoot purred as he approached, standing on her tip toes to lick his cheek when he came to a stop in front of her. “We’ve been waiting to hear your name- Softgaze said that she wanted you to be able to introduce yourself to us for the first time.” Cloudclaw padded over to join them, and Snowdrift puffed out his chest in pride.

“My name is Snowdrift now!” he announced. Whitefoot and Cloudclaw let out a few cheers, Softgaze joining in, and Snowdrift couldn’t help but laugh at their enthusiasm. His good mood dissipated, however, when Cloudclaw began to speak.

“Did you have any cool dreams? What’s Starclan like? Oh, wait, did you get some crazy proph-“

“I saw Dad!” Snowdrift blurted out. Cloudclaw and Whitefoot froze, his brother’s mouth gaping open in surprise. Whitefoot’s eyes welled with tears as Cloudclaw began a rapid fire series of questions.

“ _What_?! You saw _Dad_?!? What was he like? Does he look like me? Does he look like _you_? C’mon, Snowflake, what did he _say_ -“

“He said he was proud of you, and that he loves and misses us.” Snowdrift decided to leave out the part about Snowcloud’s regret- his mother was already crying, no need to make it worse. “And he looks like me, Cloud _puff_ , so no need to get too excited.” Cloudclaw let out a huff, but seemed satisfied with the message. Whitefoot sniffed, delicately pawing her tears away before giving her son a tremulous smile.

“Well, it’s good to know he’s safe with the ancestors. I’m happy that you were able to meet him dear- he had been over the moon when I told him I was pregnant with you two, so I can only imagine how he felt to see you now.” She gave him an affectionate nudge on his shoulder. “And of course, I am very proud of you. Who could’ve thought that my son would be our medicine cat!”

Snowdrift but couldn’t help but preen under his mother’s attention- Cloudclaw had always said he was a mama’s boy, but who could blame him? Whitefoot was everything he could want in a mother, and he valued her opinion of him even more than Softgaze’s. Chatting with his family helped ease some of the anxiety he felt about the prophecy. He had his family and his mentor there to support him- with them at his side he could do anything, even figure out the vague and ominous words of the ancestors.

Whitefoot soon departed for a hunting patrol, leaving Cloudclaw behind. He gave Snowdrift an uncharacteristically serious look before mewing, “Look, I want you to know I’m proud of you too. While I still think being a warrior is the greatest-“ Snowdrift let out a snort, “there couldn’t be great warriors without the medicine cats to help. In fact,” he continued, a familiar sparkle lighting up his eyes, “do you think you could help me with a very important problem, oh great and wise healer?”

Snowdrift shook his head fondly. “Alright, what exactly did you do _this_ time?” Cloudclaw darted a glance over towards Softgaze, who had wandered further back into the den, muttering under her breath as she catalogued their supplies. Finding her suitably distracted, Cloudclaw leaned in close to Snowdrift.

“Alright, so there’s this molly-“

Snowdrift burst into laughter. “Are you _seriously_ asking me for advice about _Tigerwhisker_?” he gasped. Cloudclaw wailed in both outrage and despair, his melodrama drawing Softgaze’s disapproving glare.

“How did you know?” he hissed, “Even _Mom_ doesn’t know-“

“ _Of course_ Mom knows, Mom knows everything.” Snowdrift mewed dismissively. “Besides, I’m pretty sure the whole _Clan_ knows, given how you pad after her like a clingy kit-“

Cloudclaw sputtered, “Clingy? _Kit?!_ Excuse you, I do _not_ -“

“Ahem.”

The brothers turned sheepishly to face Softgaze, who was glaring up at them.

“If you’re just going to stand here and bicker, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She started to nudge Cloudclaw out of the den, ignoring his protests with practiced ease. “Ask Tigerwhisker to go hunting, Cloudclaw- she likes squirrels, so make sure you catch her one.” Flabbergasted by the old molly’s sudden advice, Cloudclaw offered no resistance as she gave him one final push, sending him stumbling past the ivy curtain at the entrance of the den. She then turned towards Snowdrift, giving him a firm nod.

“Right,” she croaked, “onto business then. Go grab us something to eat so we can discuss what happened last night.”

He nodded seriously, taking a deep breath before he headed out into the camp. The sun was almost blinding after so long in the dim den, and as his eyes adjusted he was surprised to see that it was already after sunhigh. _I must have slept for a long time,_ he mused as he padded over to the fresh kill pile. Cloudclaw had already disappeared, which was unsurprising given the camp was bustling with activity. The short walk to the pile seemed to take forever given how many cats stopped to talk to him. It seemed like the whole Clan had already heard of his new name- _probably due to Cloudclaw’s big mouth_ \- and were eager to greet him. As he finally made it to the pile, Turtlepaw raced into camp, a plump pigeon clutched in her jaws. She seemed rather proud of her catch, although she froze when she saw him by the pile. Approaching slowly, she carefully put it down at his feet.

“H-here you go,” she stuttered. “I, uh, caught this just now, and Mintfrost said I should, um, give it to you…” she trailed off. “Uh, anyway, congratulations?” With that she darted back off towards the apprentice den. Snowdrift shook his head, bemused. The deputy’s apprentice was a strange little thing. Barely seven moons old and still in possession of kit fluff, she was already shaping up to be a fantastic hunter. However, she could barely look anyone in the eye for more than a second at a time, and seemed to dread every conversation she had, rushing off as soon as she saw an opportunity. _Odd choice, to pair her with Mintfrost._ Snowdrift was relieved to not see the deputy anywhere and decided he would like to keep it that way. He snatched up the pigeon and bustled quickly off to the medicine den. Shouldering through the curtain, he froze, seeing a fluffy brown and white form sitting near Softgaze.

“Ah, Snowdrift! Congratulations, my boy!” Snowdrift relaxed- it was Stonestar, his familiar booming voice a relief to hear. “I’m sure you’re busy, but I wanted to drop by and offer my congratulations. Thunderclan is lucky to have you as their medicine cat.” With that he swept out of the den, nodding as Snowdrift mumbled his gratitude around the pigeon in his mouth.

Alone again with Softgaze, Snowdrift put the pigeon down and cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of what to say. She gave him a sympathetic look before giving him a gentle flick with her tail.

“The first message is always the hardest, dear,” she murmured. “Don’t be afraid to take your time.” As they ate their meal, he haltingly recounted the events of his dream- meeting Snowcloud, the flight from the Mothermouth, the mint overtaking Four Trees, and, almost guiltily, his suspicions about Mintfrost. When he finished it felt like ages later, and his mouth was bone dry. Softgaze was silent, her face contemplative, and he struggled to patiently wait for her response.

“Well, I would definitely refrain from accusing Mintfrost of any sort of treason,” she started, her tone dry, “given that you have no proof. I would add that Starclan’s messages are rarely so obvious in their meanings.” Snowdrift’s ears burned in embarrassment. Admittedly, the only fault he could pin on Mintfrost was that she was odd, by Thunderclan standards at least. _She’d fit in well with Shadowclan_ , he mused, _but I suppose being strange isn’t a crime_. “Now,” Softgaze continued, “that is not to say that it’s completely impossible that she could be up to something, but it seems fairly clear that this isn’t a lone agent. Snowcloud mentioned enemies, plural, and did say that you would need help. I’d say that should be your first step- figuring out who exactly your allies in this are.”

“Did you receive any signs?” Snowdrift hesitantly asked. He tried not to feel too disappointed as she shook her head.

“Unfortunately I did not receive anything that might help you, dear.” Softgaze sighed before heaving herself to her feet. “Now, there is not a whole lot to be done about this now. Keep your eyes sharp, and be on the lookout for whoever it is that’s supposed to help you with this.”

Snowdrift got up as well, one last question weighing on his mind.

“Do we tell Stonestar?”

Softgaze didn’t hesitate.

“No, I don’t think we should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I like it better when prophecies are more signs as opposed to some riddle that can be obvious in it's word play, or rather lack thereof. I'm considering posting the allegiances so it's easier to get an idea of what everyone looks like, but I have to dig out where I wrote all of that down first lol. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	3. teasel joins a gang (kind of)

Teasel’s breath came harsh and fast as she sprinted away from her pursuers. Her legs were burning with fatigue, her chest aching, but the most painful thing was that she knew the toms behind her were just toying with her. They were loping along a few tail lengths behind her, yowling taunts with ease, and she dreaded the moment that they got bored and caught up to her.

The day had started like any other. Wake up, catch a mouse, groom her fur, go for a stroll, take a nap- calm, and as peaceful as anyone could hope. It had been two moons since her mother had disappeared, and in that time she had only smelled some Clan cats, but they came and left without her ever seeing them. That had changed this afternoon, when she had awoken to two burly toms leaning over her nest. They were intent on claiming the barn as their own, which, to be honest, she wasn’t in a position to argue with. They had also seemed intent on making sure she never tried to come back, however, and had gotten a few good hits in before she managed to escape.

Now she was running full tilt towards the moor, the cold wind stinging her cuts as it fiercely whipped against her. Her mother had always told her to never stray into the Clan territory- _‘They’re noble, but they’re also fiercer than foxes, those warriors, and don’t you forget it’_ \- but at this point it seemed to be the lesser of two evils. Hopefully it would be enough of a deterrent that the toms wouldn’t follow her across the border and she would get a chance to hide. As she crested the hill she caught scent of the Clan cats, and some distant part of her wondered at how fresh it was.

Then she saw that it was because three of them were there, marking the border.

 _Well, too late now_ , she thought, and kept running straight towards them. _Mama said they were fierce, but also noble, right? They can’t be worse than these rogues._

The Clan cats were staring at her now, ears pricked, but their fur fluffed out in alarm as the two toms came over the hill behind her. Teasel finally reached the border, shooting under the legs of the molly in her way and coming to a trembling halt behind her, all but collapsing to the ground. Her tormentors slowed to a stop a few tail lengths away, wary of the three bristling warriors in front of them.

“What is the meaning of this?!” the molly in front of her demanded, teeth bared. “Why are you attacking this kit!”

“The little fluff ball was on our territory, we were just seeing her out.” One of them replied, a stocky ginger tom who had delighted in boxing her ears. His friend, a scarred gray tom, stayed silent. “Guess she’s your problem now, though.”

“I guess so.” That was the other molly, her mismatched eyes icy as she glared at them. “Now get away from here, before you find out what it’s like to fight someone who can hit back.”

Thankfully the toms took the opportunity they were presented with and turned away, trotting back up the hill and out of sight with no further words. Teasel closed her eyes and huffed a sigh of relief, sinking fully to the ground. When she reopened them, she took in the sight of the three cats staring at her: three blue eyes, three yellow.

“She looks like an owl chick.” The sole tom deadpanned. He was the tallest of the three, which was definitely saying something: Teasel had never imagined that cats could have such long legs. She barely reached their shoulders, for stars’ sake. They all had short but dense looking fur, long skinny tails and big ears, so very different from her own stocky body and thick, fluffy fur. The tom continued, “She’s so cute, I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

“ _Gorsestorm._ ” The molly in front of her hissed, smacking him with her paw. They looked very similar, with their golden brown and white fur, but the molly’s eyes were blue while the tom’s, apparently called Gorsestorm, were yellow. The final molly was black and white, and her mismatched eyes were the exact same shades as the other two’s- maybe they were all related? “Don’t be so rude!”

“You’re both being rude!” The other molly scolded, pushing past the other two to stand in front of her. “Can’t you see how shaken up she is? Hey, what’s your name little one?” This last part was said in a considerably more gentle tone. Teasel swallowed hard before sitting up.

“My name is Teasel.” She croaked, voice harsh from disuse. “I’m so sorry for trespassing but they were chasing me and I didn’t know where to go and Mama always said the Clan cats were _noble_ and-“

“Hey, hey, slow down there whirlwind!” Gorsestorm meowed. “Why are you by yourself? Aren’t you a little young to be on your own?” Teasel pushed herself up, fluffing out her fur in an attempt to look bigger.

“I’m eight moons old! I’m not a kit!” She said scornfully. He laughed in response.

“Alright little Ms. All Grown Up, my name is Gorsestorm. This is my sister, Heathernose, and our cousin, Kiteclaw. Why don’t we take you back to camp and get you patched up?”

Teasel just nodded in response, the gravity of the situation sinking in. In the span of about in hour, she had been attacked by rogues, chased out of her home, met some Clan cats, and was now about to go back to their camp- it was a lot to take in, so she felt that it was only fair that she fainted.

.

.

.

Teasel awoke what felt like moments later, curled up in a nest of heather. The thick smell made her nose twitch, and she opened her blurry eyes to a small den. A ginger tom was sitting nearby, looking at something at his feet, and for one moment her slow brain had her convinced he was the one who had boxed her ears. She let out a hiss of alarm, startling the tom in front of her. He whipped around to face her, and as her vision quickly cleared she realized this tom looked nothing like the one from the barn. He was much taller and skinnier, for one, and his fur was more orange than red. He padded over towards her carefully, his yellow eyes soft and kind.

“Well, look who’s finally woken up. Did you enjoy your nap?” he purred, sitting down next to her. She had to crane her neck to look up at him, but she gave him a hesitant nod. He continued, “Your name is Teasel, right? Gorsestorm and his patrol brought you back to the camp a few hours ago. From the sound of it, you’ve had quite the day. Stay here for a moment, I’ll be right back.”

With that he padded out of the den, and she was left alone. She took the opportunity to examine her new surroundings. It seemed to be dug out of the earth, with a short tunnel sloping up into what was presumably the camp she had been told about. Little niches were dug out into the walls, holding a variety of plants and mosses. There were some shallow dips in the floor near where she was laying, and another nest was further in the back, by the wall. It had a cozy feel to it, the smell of herbs cloying yet at the same time rather calming. Her wounds had also been tended to, and she felt much better than she had before. She felt like she was drifting off again when the tom returned, with another cat in tow. He was carrying a mouse, while the younger was carrying a ball of moss soaked with water. When they had set them down in front of her, the orange tom spoke.

“Here you are now, you’ll feel better once you’ve had something to eat and drink. Now, my name is Kestrelcall. I am the medicine cat of Windclan. This is my son, Dipperpaw.” She glanced over at the younger tom. He was completely black except for a patch of white on his throat, and he was looking back at her with big orange eyes. He looked rather downtrodden, which she was idly curious about. She was much more concerned with the food in front of her, however, and after a quick thank you had demolished it in a few neat bites. Kestrelcall mrowed a laugh at her enthusiasm.

“Alright, if you’re feeling up to it, I think it’s time you’ve spoken to Shalestar. She’s in charge around here.” He flicked his tail at Dipperpaw, who left without saying a word. Teasel couldn’t help the sick, nervous feeling that welled up in her stomach at his words. She hadn’t really been considering the consequences when she crossed into Clan territory. Would the leader kick her out? Would she let her stay? Did she even want to stay? Her frantic thoughts were cut off by the return of Dipperpaw, who lead a pale gray molly into the den.

_That was quick._

“Thank you Dipperpaw. Why don’t you go see if Littlestream needs anything?” Shalestar mewed. Dipperpaw nodded quickly, again without a word, and slipped back out of the den. Shalestar turned her attention to Teasel, who couldn’t help but shudder under her gaze. The leader’s body language was relaxed, almost lazy, but her bright yellow eyes were as sharp as the Greenleaf sun. “Now, what’s a kit like you doing wandering about Clan territory?”

Teasel gulped. “W-well,” she hesitantly began, “I live- lived- at the barn, with Ma- my mother, but she’s, uh, gone now, and that was fine, but this morning these two big toms showed up and chased me out. I didn’t know where to go and they were gonna catch me and I was hoping to hide on your territory ‘cause I didn’t think they’d follow me there but then those warriors were there and-“ she sucked in a deep breath, halting her quick and rather desperate explanation. Shalestar’s expression hadn’t changed, but her eyes seemed a little softer. She flicked her tail, which Teasel took as an indication that she shouldn’t say anymore.

“You’ve had quite the day,” she said, echoing Kestrelcall’s earlier words. “Now, I definitely have no issue with my warriors helping you out- in fact, I’m quite proud that they did. Now, the real question is, what is it that you plan to do now?”

Teasel stared up at her, her mind whirring. She had absolutely no idea- she had lost her home, and she really had no idea if she’d be able to find a new one on her own. She couldn’t fight, the only thing she could hunt were lazy barn mice, and this was the furthest she had ever been from home before.

“I- I really, uh, don’t know-“

“Would you like to stay?”

“Huh?”

Shalestar’s eyes were twinkling with amusement. “I would put it to the Clan of course, but it seems like you really don’t have any place to go, and I’m not one for turning down a cat in need. If the Clan accepted it, would you like to stay here and learn our ways?”

Teasel pondered the question. It really did seem to be her only option, but did she like the thought of it? _You wouldn’t be alone anymore_ , a voice in her mind whispered. _Noble and fierce_ , her mother’s words echoed. She did like the sound of that.

“Yes,” she heard herself mew, “I think I would like that very much.”

“Well then,” Shalestar purred, rising languidly from where she was sitting, “let’s go see what everybody has to say about it.”

“All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather for a Clan meeting!”

Teasel fidgeted nervously from where she sat near the base of the large boulder wedged near the border of the camp. Cats slipped from dens made of heather and gorse, their large eyes fixed curiously on her. She recognized her rescuers, sitting together near the front of the gathering crowd. Dipperpaw sat a little ways off, alone. Kestrelcall was sitting next to her as a show of support, but she caught the sad look he shot his son. She didn’t have time to wonder about that, however, as the rest of the Clan settled and Shalestar began to speak.

“This afternoon, Gorsestorm’s patrol found this young molly at the border with the Two Leg territory. She was chased out of her home by two toms and sought our aid. She has now expressed a desire to join Windclan and learn the ways of the warrior.” The Clan broke out into murmurs at that, but Teasel was slightly relieved to note that they seemed more curious than angry. “What say you all to this? Are there any objections?”

There was silence. Nobody seemed like they were going to speak, casting around their curious gazes as if looking for someone else to step up. Finally, one did- a brown tabby tom, his green eyes warm as he shot her a wink.

“I don’t think anyone has an issue with this, Shalestar,” he drawled. “As long as you think she can make the cut, I know that’s good enough for me, and I assume it’s good enough for everybody else.”

Shalestar seemed amused again, but she nodded seriously. “That settles it then. If nobody has any objections…”

She nimbly leapt down from the boulder, landing neatly in front of Teasel. She cleared her throat before announcing in a loud voice, “From this day forward then, you shall be known as Teaselpaw. Gorsestorm,” she continued, shooting a glance over at the startled young tom. “You were the one who made a case for her staying,”-Teasel, or rather Teaselpaw, started at that: he had asked for her to stay?- “and so she shall be your responsibility. Heathernose, Kiteclaw, I ask that you aid Gorsestorm in making sure Teaselpaw is knowledgeable in terms of our history and our traditions.”

Gorsestorm approached slowly, and Teaselpaw was a little surprised to see that he looked… suspicious? Shalestar slid out of the way as Gorsestorm came to a stop in front of her, bending down to touch noses with her.

“Teaselpaw!” A young molly in the crowd called, and the rest of the Clan picked up the cry, cheerily yelling her new name a few times before dispersing, chatting amongst themselves about this new development. Teaselpaw stayed where she was, a little overwhelmed. She was part of Windclan now, but what did that really mean? Gorsestorm cleared his throat, capturing her wandering attention.

“Uh, well then. I suppose you have absolutely no idea what’s going on.” She hesitantly shook her head. Gorsestorm let out a gusty sigh. “Alright, we’ve definitely got our work cut out for us. Traditionally the first thing an apprentice does is tour the territory, but we neither have the time, nor, I’m assuming, the energy. Instead, let’s get you acquainted with the camp and your new denmates- how does that sound owl chick?”

Teaselpaw wanted to roll her eyes at the nick name, but she also didn’t want to show such blatant disrespect to her new teacher. She nodded quickly instead and stood to follow him. He gave her a quick tour of the camp, pointing out the warrior’s den, the apprentice’s den, the elder’s den, and the nursery. “Littlestream is the only queen in the nursery right now,” he explained, gesturing at the pale tortoiseshell lounging in the evening sun near the den. “She’s Palesky, the deputy’s, mate. Her kits will come sometime in the next moon.” Teaselpaw couldn’t help but feel a little excited at that. She had never seen a kit before, being the only one of her litter, and she wanted to know what they were like. “Now, you already know where the medicine den is, and Shalestar sleeps under the Great Boulder. Let’s go introduce you to the other apprentices.”

They walked back over to the apprentice’s den, the other three apprentices hanging around outside. Dipperpaw was once again by himself, busy cleaning his paws, while the other two wrestled nearby. One was a pale gray tabby molly, the same one who had cheered her name earlier. The other was a much darker gray tabby tom, and they looked similar enough for her to assume they were littermates. They stopped their fight as Teaselpaw and Gorsestorm approached, the molly excitedly bounding up to them with a wide smile.

“Hey! My name is Silverpaw! Your name is Teaselpaw, right? That’s my brother, Cinderpaw, and you know Dipperpaw, and- “ She cut abruptly herself off, clearing her throat a bit awkwardly. “Uh, and that’s it, I guess. Anyway, it’s really nice to meet you!”

Teaselpaw found herself a little taken aback by the molly’s exuberance, but a part of her appreciated such a genuine welcome. She gave the other molly a small smile as Cinderpaw and Dipperpaw also walked up to greet her.

“Sorry my sister is such a rabbit mouth, she talks enough for all of us.” Cinderpaw drawled, casually ignoring Silverpaw’s indignant _hey!_. Dipperpaw opened his mouth to speak, but Gorsestorm cut him off.

“Well, since you all seem to be getting along so well, I think we’ll be done for today. The real training starts tomorrow, owl chick, so I’d get some rest if I were you.” He turned and stalked off without acknowledging any of the other apprentices, and Silverpaw shot a dirty look at his retreating back.

“I don’t know why Ma made him your mentor, he’s so rude.” She complained. She gave Dipperpaw a sympathetic look. “Sorry about him, Dipperpaw, what were you gonna say?”

Dipperpaw’s ears flicked nervously. “It’s ok,” he mewewd quietly, “I just wanted to welcome Teaselpaw to the Clan.” He shot her a small smile. She gave him one in return, happy to finally hear him speak- his voice was a lot deeper than she had been expecting, given how scrawny he looked.

“Now then!” Silverpaw announced, puffing out her chest, “Let’s get you set up in the den!”

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur. Despite the distance Dipperpaw kept from the other two out in the camp, there was a single, giant nest in the center of the den. _It’s easier to talk quietly at night if we’re close together,_ Silverpaw had said in a conspiring tone. _And since we’re not supposed to hang out with Dipper the only time we really get to talk is at night._ They all crammed onto the nest together, and then they took it upon themselves to interrogate her about her life prior to joining the Clan. She told them about growing up with her mother in the barn, all the strange wanderers she had met, the easy prey and the warm hay. Satisfied, they in turn filled her in about their own lives.

“Shalestar is our mom, and Stagstep is our dad. He’s the one that spoke for everyone earlier.” Silverpaw explained. It had quickly become apparent that she was the leader of the troupe of apprentices, the toms seemingly content to let her run the show. “I’m technically next in line, ‘cause I’m older than Cinder, but I won’t be eligible for the deputyship until I’m a warrior and I’ve had an apprentice.” Teaselpaw nodded along, finding it simple enough. “Because our mom is the leader we have a really high rank in the Clan, although that doesn’t matter all too much because we’re apprentices.”

“So if your parents are important, you’re important?” She asked. The others nodded, seemingly pleased that she was picking it up. “What about you then Dipper? The medicine cat is important, right?” It only seemed logical to her, but it seemed she had struck some kind of nerve. An awkward silence descended on the little group, and she pinned her ears back in embarrassment. “O-oh, I’m sorry, did I-“

“It’s not your fault!” Dipperpaw blurted, also looking embarrassed. “It’s, uh, just that medicine cats aren’t supposed to have kits, so, like, I’m really not supposed to like, be here, I guess…” he stammered out. Silverpaw let out a hiss.

“Don’t say that! Of course you’re supposed to be here! Ma says all kits are important, no matter who they come from, and you’re no different!” Although her tone was somewhat harsh, her gaze was affectionate, and she leaned over to give him a comforting lick on the cheek. “Besides, where would I be if I just had Cinderpaw?”

They all laughed at that, even Cinderpaw, the awkward air dissipating a bit. Dipperpaw shot Teaselpaw a little smile.

“Yeah, so I’m really not supposed to hang around with Silver and Cinder, because I’m ‘a bad influence’ or something like that. We’re still all friends though! We just… aren’t supposed to be.”

“I’m really sorry,” Teaselpaw meowed. “I think that’s dumb, that so much is dependent on who your parents are.” Cinderpaw shrugged.

“Well, when it comes to how cats treat Dipper, yeah, it’s dumb, because he didn’t do anything wrong. But it also helps the Clan maintain order- we don’t have as many issues when it comes to leadership, like the Clans who don’t have a hierarchy like ours.” Teaselpaw’s ears flicked in surprise.

“You mean the other Clans aren’t like Windclan?” Silverpaw laughed at that.

“They’re the same in some ways, but a lot different in others. Windclan is the only Clan whose leaders are determined by family, for instance.” Teaselpaw nodded, realizing how much there was she didn’t know about her new way of life.

“Oh,” she said, her lips suddenly parting in a jaw cracking yawn. “I guess I really don’t know anything, huh?”

Dipperpaw laughed at that, breaking out into a yawn as well. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that, because you have us to help you now. We’ll have you a proper Clan cat in no time!”

The other two enthusiastically agreed with him, making Teaselpaw feel warm inside at how kind they were being to her. It quickly became apparent that they were all exhausted, however, as their talking had kept them up well past moonhigh. They all settled down for the night, dropping off to sleep one by one. As she drifted off, Teaselpaw couldn’t help but smile.

_Maybe this is really where I’m supposed to be._

_._

_._

_._

That night, Teaselpaw dreamt. She was standing on the moor, surrounded by small piles of rocks- some seemed to have been there for a long time, worn and smoothed by the wind and rain. Others seemed newer, dirt still clinging to their rough edges. The one immediately in front of her had a few red flowers laid in front of it.

 _Poppies_ , she recognized idly, thoughts slow in the dreamy haze. As she did so, she felt a presence behind her. Turning, she saw a young molly, about her age. She was a dark tortoiseshell with a white throat, and she was looking at Teaselpaw with serious orange eyes. The molly was whispering something, and it took a moment for Teaselpaw to register what she was saying. The molly whispered it again, eyes burning.

_Justice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Teasel, and along with her an attempt to add some bigger differences between the clans than just brave, fast, sneaky, and swimmy. As always, thanks for reading!


	4. piketail and the kinda decent day

Piketail came awake with a start, eye darting around as he gradually became aware of his surroundings. Lifting his head slowly, he observed his sleeping clanmates, relieved to find he hadn't disturbed any of them. They twitched and softly snored, too busy with their own dreams to notice his. With a sigh he rose and carefully began to pick his way around the den from his nest at the edge. Although he wasn't the newest warrior anymore- he hadn't been for a couple seasons now, stars was he getting old- his nest was one of the furthest from the center, born from his reluctance to disturb his denmates with his restless sleep or be too close to any of them. As he slipped out of the warrior’s den and took a deep breath of the cool air, Piketail briefly considered his distance, both physical and emotional, from his clanmates. _It's better this way_ , he decided. _I stay out of their way, they stay out of mine, and everyone’s happy._ Besides, he had Littlepaw and his mother, and some acquaintances amongst the other clans, and it wasn’t like he was miserable amongst his clanmates- he was perfectly fine.

  
He padded out of camp and through the reeds that surrounded it, heading to the sparse collection of trees that occupied the otherwise rolling grassland near the river. He had enough time for a visit before Coppertail started assigning patrols, and even though the sun had yet to make an appearance it promised to be a nice day.

  
“Good news for the Gathering tonight”, he mused aloud to himself, stopping to consider some wildflowers growing nearby. Settling on a pretty purple bloom, he picked it carefully before continuing on his way. Before long he had arrived at his destination: a gentle, wide hill overlooking the river, dotted with piles of smooth river stones. He made his way to a familiar spot, stopping before a pile made up of six stones, the topmost holding a large white feather in place. It was starting to get tattered- he made a note to himself to keep an eye out for a replacement, setting the flower down gently before clearing his throat.

  
“Hi Swanpaw,” he began softly. “Sorry it’s been a few days, things with Littlepaw have been busy. We’ve been working on his technique for hunting birds lately…” As Piketail updated his best friend about the events of the past few days, his mind wandered. _Bright green eyes shimmering, feathery black fur dotted with snowflakes, “I’ll race you there!”, laughter, a crunch in the snow, a snarl_ \- Piketail snapped back into awareness, realizing he had trailed off with his mouth hanging open. He shook himself roughly, clearing his throat again. “Anyway, the Gathering is tonight, and if I want Littlepaw and I to be chosen for it I probably shouldn’t be late for patrol assignments. I’ll let you know what happens, and I promise not to be away for so long this time.” With that he touched his nose to the feather before setting out.

  
He got back to camp right as the sun began to peek over the reeds and bushes surrounding the clearing. It seemed he was just in time: Coppertail was lounging in the branches of the Meeting Tree, waiting to begin assignments. Piketail sat off to the side, waiting patiently for his name to be called and idly watching as cats split off from the crowd, either to join a patrol or head back to bed. Riverclan cats generally weren’t fond of early mornings, with himself, of course, being an exception. Finally, as the last few cats trailed off, Coppertail called him over.

  
“Reedpelt mentioned to me she wanted someone to take Splashpaw out to get herbs- I’d like you to do it, since you know more about herbs than most. Take Littlepaw with you, I’m sure he’ll enjoy it.” Piketail gave a respectful nod, turning to walk over to the apprentice’s den. He ducked down in the entrance, about to call out a greeting when he stopped, his eye narrowing.

Goldenpaw had her paws placed firmly on the back of Littlepaw’s head, grinding his face into a pile of dirty bedding. Ripplepaw was crouched nervously behind her, mouth open in what appeared to be a hesitant rebuke. She halted when she saw him glaring from the entrance, her silver tabby fur bushing out further.

  
“Goldenpaw,” he snapped, irritation flaring as she merely turned her head to blink at him. “Get off your brother. _Now_.” She slowly stepped back from Littlepaw, who quickly scrambled up, practically radiating embarrassment. “I didn’t realize I was walking into the nursery. Are you a warrior apprentice or a wayward kit? Should I go get Dawnface?” He growled, straightening up so he loomed over the three apprentices. He was one of the biggest cats in the clan, which came in handy when cowing both enemy warriors and insolent apprentices. Goldenpaw glared up at him, snorting in a derisive way.

  
“Whatever,” she sulked, before flicking her Littlepaw’s nose with her tail. She hissed something at him under her breath and he flinched. Piketail felt his irritation quickly swell into anger.

  
“Well, I was here to collect Littlepaw to run an errand for Reedpelt- you can accompany us to the medicine den, since you’ll be needing mouse bile for the elder’s ticks.”

  
“But Squirrelnose-“

  
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be sure to let him know _exactly_ why his apprentice is on tick duty instead of hunting for her clan. Come along, now.” The golden tabby stomped her way out of the den, Littlepaw trailing out meekly after her. Piketail turned to follow but stopped, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the last apprentice in the den. “Ripplepaw.” She looked up at him with wide, guilty yellow eyes. “Next time, either get someone or stand up to her- you don’t need to be afraid of her. There’s no shame in defending a friend, even if it’s against a clanmate.” She nodded, mollified, and he dipped his head in return, finally exiting the den.

  
Littlepaw was sitting in front of the medicine den, chatting animatedly with Splashpaw, while Goldenpaw was slowly shuffling over to the elder’s den, a stick clamped gingerly between her teeth. Before he could head over, however, he caught sight of Squirrelnose standing across the clearing, blinking at Goldenpaw in confusion as she disappeared into the elder’s den. Steeling himself, Piketail made his way over to him.

  
“Squirrelnose.” The ginger tom started, quickly glancing at him and then away again.

  
“Piketail.”

  
“Goldenpaw was torturing Littlepaw again and gave me attitude about it, so I put her on tick duty.” He mewed stiffly. Squirrelnose didn’t meet his eye.

  
“I’ll take care of it.” He replied, resolutely staring straight ahead. Piketail simply rolled his eye in response before stalking away, pelt prickling with discomfort at the encounter. He relaxed as he walked up to his apprentice, who brightened at his approach.

  
“Thanks, Piketail,” he blinked gratefully, “Next time I’ll stand up to her, I promise!”

  
“Don’t worry, Dandelion!” Splashpaw chirped, bouncing on his toes. “I know like, ten different ways to poison her, so-“

  
“ _Splashpaw_!” the little golden tabby hissed, horrified, “She’s still my sister! You can’t-“ Piketail chuckled, leaving them to their bickering as he turned to lead them out of the camp. Splashpaw took point as soon as they emerged from the reeds, not breaking stride as he continued to try and convince his friend, _really, Dandelion, I can make it look like an accident!_ Piketail trailed along behind them, tuning them out as he enjoyed the breeze ruffling his fur. It was a beautiful early leaf-fall day, and he was content to take advantage of the good weather while it lasted. Finally, Splashpaw came to a stop, cutting off Littlepaw as he began to issue orders.

  
“Alright! We need marigold, mint, and cobwebs, if we can find any. Dandelion, you look over there, Horsetail, you look over there, and I’ll look over here!” Piketail gave the little apprentice a fond nudge before moving to follow his directions, ambling off towards a grassy knoll, sniffing for herbs. He had gotten to know Splashpaw through Littlepaw, as the golden tabby was fast friends with the medicine cat apprentice and his much more docile sister, Ripplepaw. Splashpaw was eccentric- his proclivity for nicknaming cats after herbs was only one of his quirks. Littlepaw was Dandelion because he was “yellow and puffy and generally overlooked despite his importance”, and Piketail was Horsetail, because he was “ugly to look at, but dead useful”. Littlepaw had been both furious and mortified at that comment, but Piketail had laughed, truly gut laughed, for the first time since his incident, and from that moment on he couldn’t help his growing fondness for the bold little fluffball.

  
As he wandered through the tall grass, a familiar scent tickled his nose. He stuck his head through a few tufts of grass to find a large patch of mint. Piketail drew in a breath to call for Splashpaw, only to let out a violent sneeze. He blinked in confusion before sneezing again even harder, a furious burning itch beginning to assault his nose and throat. He continued to sneeze and cough, backing up blindly away from the mint, eye streaming, gagging and gasping for breath as his throat and face began to swell. His ear twitched as he registered the concerned calls of the apprentices and he stumbled his way towards the noise, blinking desperately to clear his vision. Thankfully his eye started to clear and the itching began to lessen. He scrubbed at his nose, letting out one final tremendous sneeze before he managed to stop. As his vision cleared he saw Littlepaw and Splashpaw standing before him, looking bewildered.

  
“By all the rocks in the river, what was _that_?” Splashpaw exclaimed. “Your whole face is all swole up!”

  
“Swollen,” Littlepaw corrected absently, ignoring his friend’s dirty look and gazing at his mentor in concern. “We should probably go back to camp- you don’t look too good.”

  
“We found some marigold and I can get the mint later. Let’s go!” Splashpaw mewed, ushering Piketail to his feet. The whole way back to camp the two apprentices flitted nervously around him, snipping at each other and asking him every few seconds if he was alright. Piketail did his best to tamp his irritation down and managed to keep it at a few eye rolls- he couldn’t remember ever being so happy to see camp as he was when they finally got back. He crossed over to the medicine den as quickly as he could, ducking through the moss that draped over the entrance to the cave. Reedpelt glanced up from where she was sorting herbs, but did a double take when she took in his appearance. She hurried over to him, spouting off orders to Splashpaw, who had appeared at her side. The apprentice scrambled to obey, bringing the herbs she requested before darting off to look for honey.

  
“What happened?” She demanded as she dribbled celandine juice over his eye. Hissing at the sting, he hurriedly explained what had happened when he found the mint. She hummed thoughtfully as Splashpaw returned with an oyster shell filled with honey, which she nudged toward Piketail. “Eat this, it’ll help with your throat. Now, I would simply say you’re allergic to mint, but you’ve never had a reaction like this before, correct?” Piketail shook his head, lapping at the honey and sighing in relief as it began to soothe the burning itch in his throat. Reedpelt flicked her tail in annoyance. “Hmph. Well, this is very unusual. I’ve never heard of a cat developing such a severe allergy out of the blue before- I’ll have to speak to the others about it at the Gathering tonight. I’ll tell Oakstar you need to come.” Littlepaw perked up from the other side of the den, shooting Reedpelt a hopeful look. She caught the movement and let out a snort. “I suppose I could ask him if Littlepaw could come along tonight as well.” His apprentice grinned, sharing an excited glance with Splashpaw as Reedpelt continued, “Now, you two get out of here- Piketail needs to rest before the Gathering tonight.”

  
The apprentices darted out, chattering something about telling Ripplepaw, as Reedpelt helped Piketail over to a nest near the entrance. He settled in with a content sigh, comfortable in the warm sunlight trickling through the moss curtaining the entrance. A nap would be nice after his restless night. As he drifted off, he just hoped he wouldn’t have any dreams.

* * * * *

  
Piketail guided Grayfeather down into the hollow at Fourtrees, feeling much better than he had earlier that day. He dismissed Littlepaw with a flick of his tail, the golden tabby quickly darting off into the crowd, Ripplepaw hot on his heels. He shook his head fondly after them before leading his mother over to a group of elders, accepting her affectionate lick without protest, turning to go find his own entertainment for the night. He had barely made it two steps when Reedpelt appeared at his side.

  
“Here, we’ve got some time before things start- come with me.” He followed obediently after her to where the other medicine cats were sitting near the base of one of the Great Oaks. He nodded respectfully to them as he approached, receiving cordial nods in return. He hadn’t much cause to interact with them before, but medicine cats were well known figures amongst all of the clans, so he knew a bit about them. There was Fernfire, the odd little Shadowclan healer. He had apparently been a kittypet kit who had wandered into the forest, claiming to have received dreams from the stars about the cats who lived in the swamp. Then there was beaten down Kestrelcall, the object of both scorn and sympathy throughout the territories. The scandal regarding the kittens he had with a loner was well known, despite Windclan’s efforts to keep it quiet. He had taken his daughter as his apprentice, and things had started to calm down when Falconstar and Poppypaw had been murdered almost two moons ago. Now Kestrelcall was looked at more with pity than derision, although there were some who blamed the tragedy on the medicine cat angering Starclan by breaking his oaths, especially as time went on and what happened still remained a mystery.

  
Finally, there was ancient Softgaze and her hulking apprentice, Snowpaw. Softgaze had been old when he was a kit, but Snowpaw was the only apprentice she had ever taken. Many had thought it strange she waited so long, and for a while there was a rumor that Starclan might be angry with Thunderclan, if it had been so long since a cat had been born with a connection to the stars, but then Snowpaw came along and, as they usually did, things smoothed over and were soon forgotten.

  
Reedpelt introduced him to the assembled cats, then launched into an explanation of what had happened to him earlier that day. Snowpaw leaned forward, ears pricked and odd eyes sparking with interest.

  
“Mint, you say?” he asked, shooting a significant glance at his mentor. Reedpelt gave him a bemused look.

  
“Yes, mint- why, does that mean something to you?” Snowpaw hesitated as his mentor snorted and gave him a firm nudge.

  
“What Snowdrift meant to say-“ Snowdrift? He must have gotten his name this past half moon. He listened as Softgaze lectured something about pollen and allergies and blah, blah, blah, growing increasingly bored as the medicine cats began to debate his unexpected condition. His eye was starting to glaze over when he noticed the looks Snowdrift was shooting him. The big white tom was glancing over at him every few seconds, giving him searching and almost… expectant looks. It was seriously strange, and Piketail was about to say something to him when he felt a nudge on his side. He looked down to see Splashpaw grinning up at him.

  
“Once they get going it’s hard for them to stop- I’m sure they wouldn’t notice if you slipped away.” His yellow eyes were twinkling with mischief, and he shot Piketail a cheery wink. He snorted in response, darting a quick glance over at Snowdrift to see if the other tom was looking. He was relieved to see that he was engaged in a conversation with his mentor. Piketail took the opportunity to creep away quietly, breathing a sigh of relief as he blended into the crowd of gathered cats. He wove through the crowd, perking up when he spotted a small group of Shadowclan warriors. Frogthroat and Marshnose were chatting with one of their clanmates, a lanky black molly with fangs that showed even when her mouth was closed- Batfang? Battooth? Something like that. Shaking his head, he walked over towards them, calling out a greeting as he approached. Their heads swiveled towards him, and the black molly dipped her head at him before disappearing into the crowd, leaving him alone with the spotted Shadowclan siblings.

  
“Gee, that old coot Oakstar is still letting you out of the territory? He should be more considerate, constantly subjecting the rest of us to your ugly mug.” Frogthroat rasped, greeting him with a somewhat gentle shove. Piketail snorted in return, baring his teeth at him playfully.

  
“At least it’s just me who’s the problem- you swamp rats all smell like crow food and sulfur. Shadowclan should do the rest of us a favor and stay in your bog where you belong.” Marshnose laughed at that, bumping his shoulder almost affectionately. Piketail wouldn’t say they were really friends; one because he didn’t have friends, and two because even if he did, he wasn’t supposed to be friends with enemy warriors. But Frogthroat and Marshnose understood him in a way few did: surely no one could fault him for enjoying their company?

  
The three had met when they were young apprentices, not long after Piketail had recovered from his wounds enough to leave the medicine den. Frogthroat had also had his own incident- a hawk had torn out his eye and almost his throat when he threw himself over the kit it had been targeting. Besides leaving him partially blind, the scarring and damage to his throat had left him barely able to speak. Even now it was difficult for him to say more than a sentence or two at a time, although he didn’t let that stop him from spitting as many barbs as he could. They had bonded over being two half blind scarred up apprentices, and Marshnose had stepped up as both their staunchest supporter and greatest defender. _Our father always taught us you judge a cat by their actions, not what they can't change_ , she had told him. _I’m not going to stand by and watch any cat be spit on for their appearance, whether they’re my brother or some scrawny fish face._

  
So no, Piketail wouldn’t say they were friends. And he’d never admit it, but there were times when he wished that he could.

  
“Oh, guess what, fish face!” Marshnose suddenly mewed, her eyes brightening up, “Frogthroat has some news he’d like to share.” Frogthroat puffed out his chest at that, practically swelling with pride.

  
“Brooksong is pregnant! She hasn’t moved into the nursery yet, but I’m going to be a father!” Piketail let out a rusty purr, tail curling in delight at the news.

  
“Congratulations! You better hope they take after their mother and not you, otherwise you’ll have competitors for ugliest cat in the forest.” Frogthroat opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by a yowl. They looked up to see Oakstar standing on the Great Boulder, the old tom cutting a regal figure in the moonlight. Piketail sat at attention, listening as the leaders all shared their news. It seemed to have been a boring moon in the territories. Besides Snowdrift’s naming, the only thing of interest was Windclan taking in a loner kit as an apprentice. Piketail peered over at the little scrap towards where she was seated with the other apprentices. She stuck out like cardinal in the snow, short and fluffy amongst her tall and wiry companions. He obligingly cheered her name with the rest, and resolved to send Littlepaw after her if he could- just because he was a lone outsider didn’t mean everyone should be, and who knew if she was getting along with her new clanmates? He nodded to himself as the leaders ended the Gathering, bidding goodbye to his Shadowclan companions before leaving to find his mother and apprentice.

  
He had just thought he caught a glimpse of golden tabby fur when Snowdrift appeared abruptly in front of him. He halted, giving the tom a strange look.

  
“Uh… can I help you?” He asked cautiously. Snowdrift nodded enthusiastically.

  
“Yes! Yes actually, you really can.” He took a deep breath. “I need you to meet me, here, at Fourtrees, the night after the halfmoon. At midnight,” he added hurriedly. Piketail gazed at him in disbelief, sure that this was some kind of strange joke. Is this what Thunderclan cats found funny? As he opened his mouth to make his excuses, Snowdrift blurted out “It’s important! Like,” he glanced around suspiciously before leaning in close, “ _Starclan_ important.” Piketail barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes. He was suddenly exhausted, and he simply didn’t have the energy to deal with strange medicine cats and their weird senses of humor tonight.

  
“Well if it’s _Starclan_ important, I guess I don’t have a choice.” He meowed dryly. Snowdrift didn’t seem to catch his sarcasm, nodding excitedly at him, odd eyes gleaming with relief.

  
“Thank you! I, uh. I guess I’ll see you then?” The large white tom didn’t wait for a response, disappearing as quickly as he came. Piketail shook his head, heading off towards where the rest of his clanmates were gathered, spying his mother and Littlepaw lingering near the edge of the group. He heaved a huge sigh as he made his way over to them, happy to be heading home. It had been a long, strange day.

* * * * *

He fell into a deep sleep as soon as his head hit his nest, but the dream he found himself in wasn’t the one it usually was. Instead of the snow-covered bushes near the horse place, he was sitting in the hollow at Fourtrees, the half moon bright in the clear sky. He blinked in confusion, suddenly registering a presence at his side. He looked down, and he couldn’t breathe.

  
A set of leaf green eyes were shining up at him, painful in their familiarity.

  
“… Swanpaw?” He croaked. The little black apprentice grinned up at him.

  
“You should go.”

  
“ _Wha_ \- what? Swanpaw, wait-“ She took a step back, her grin fading into a sad smile.

  
“You should go.” She repeated, her voice suddenly sounding faint, and she continued to back away from him. A jolt of panic, sharp as lightning, coursed through him as she started to disappear. He leapt towards her, and as he did the scene around him changed.

  
His paws crunched in the snow at the edge of the horse place. The bushes rustled, and his breath clouded the air in front of him as he let loose a shaky exhale. There was a snarl behind him.

  
He closed his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to look at the blood and black fur lying in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Hope y'all enjoyed it- you can find me over at piesti-cats on tumblr if you ever wanna chat!

**Author's Note:**

> Changing a couple things with this fic- we'll see how long I can keep this up lol. I'm over at piesti-cats on tumblr if you wanna say hi


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